"justifiably" poems
Apathetically
Beautifully Callous
Distant
Elegy Frees Gradual Hesitation
Insecurity Justifiably Killing Love
Momentum Nullifying Optimistic Peacefulness
Quietly Relinquishing Shared Togetherness
Unhappiness Virtually Wills
Xeroxing Yourself Zymotically
© Christopher Chronister. All rights reserved
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 4:01 AM UTC
<> for the love of friends<>
How does one write
of one he knew not?
the ancillary evidence
mounts relentlessly,
the double toil and trouble moments
edged now, slow vanquished by
steady accumulation
of the evidentiary
a man who lived his life well,
will be inevitably,
nay, justifiably, deservedly
be well remembered...
one examines the evidence with
eyepiece lenses calibrated
to one's own soul,
for this is the natural condition
of humanity
yet wonder,
what manner, what scale,
does one rightly employ
to judge another's
plantings in the soil?
rightly judge another?
then you hear
a woman say,
she knew not knew
this man Eryc,
revealing an honest tertiary,
even cursory knowledge
of an anecdotal life well lived
our shared quandary,
yet she solves
this judicial issue
by asking of herself
a question
so stunningly elementary,
which both
asks and answers
the double risk
you have imposed,
to write of one you can never behold,
and in doing so,
judge thyself...
What Would Eryc Do?
this crystal rapid current question
erodes doubt, the fear to tread
where one knows not
when a stranger says to another,
indeed to many others:
heard tell of this young man,
and know now to ask myself
when I too am junctured, in doubt,
What Would Eryc Do?
there is no doubt, no juncture,
just a provident question
a makers's mark
of and upon a man,
whose future shortened,
will live far, far longer than most,
if one simple applies
a standard to one's own life of
What Would Eryc Do?
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
These hearts have become racist
What used to be kind
And all hope to be seen
is wasted
On the stampeding blind
These teeth have become stained
What used to be white
Has been darkened by the
viscera of
those consumed by the night
These hands have become destroyers
Fingers that once saved
Equal and human;
Clean or depraved
These hands have become destroyers
I feel you chewing the limb that
used to be there
Your skin is under my nails
You're burning my fingertips
And pulling my teeth
You strangle me deep
among the sea of leaves
Flashing advertisements
in my eyes, Listening to
my every word. You tell
me I'm sacrificing for the
greater good. But I feel
submissive. I feel hateful.
You say Eve is the reason
for the downfall of mankind.
She is nothing but of rib and
even bone cracks. Saying this
as you dislodge my jawbone.
I try to argue with you, but
my language is gone.
You say that a dog is harmless
if surrounded by fence. That the
owner of the dog should pay for
the fence. That the ***** could ****
or produce pups that would ****
I am still without words and losing
copious amounts of blood.
I am poor and no-one will acknowledge
my death. I am someone people will
forget died and will have to be reminded
years from now, during a cook-out or
amateur bowling tournament. My legacy
is that of failure and being obliterated,
justifiably so.
These people look to money,
to colors on fabric idols,
to pages in a book written by
share-croppers afraid of flooding.
Remove me, so, to remember me
for what potential may have existed.
Kindly ignore that I never resisted,
and that I, the apex of forevers, was
always ungrateful. That I conformed
and became deeply hateful.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
Always there for the
Beeb she cares for,
Coolcatcoolio and
**** well said so's.
Everyone stops to stare,
For she always walks and talks with flare.
Giant heart keeps her awake,
Holds on tight to loves she makes.
Insightful and delightful,
Justifiably spiteful.
Kinda naïve--
(Less than hard to believe).
Mean to no one but,
No one knows that much.
Only I know this trait,
People don't stick around and wait.
Quite a classy looking dork, with
Sarcasm galore.
Tingly feelings she gives
Underneath my skin.
Very nostalgic
With every moment.
eXciting and fun,
You know she's the one.
Zany and brainy and bright as the sun.
This is her,
to me.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 8:57 PM UTC
A Game of superior gametes,
My 46ers in the race to conceive
A business/economic Theory of Warfare
To guarantee/certify myn own survival
For my 23ers --> The Olympic Swimmers!
If the potentiality of Life in the Multi-verse
Is obviously a sure thing,
Then it's Intelligent Life-forms
That are the abnormally; an abomination
To an empty Entity interested only in
Inflicting pain and suffering and misery to the Masses;
Perhaps justifiably, perhaps not...who cares?
It's not Nature's way --> She is indifferent,
But not unaware of One species
Destroying essential habitat for no lasting reward.
She is here now - be careful! We need
To re:think our primary endeavours;
Let's try to ameliorate the damage;
Conserve what little's left whilst
Not foreclosing the whole kit and caboodle:
Sustainable resourcing without guilt.
A Quadruple bottom line, with a different foci -->
People and Environment over Time and Wherewithal.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
So i tried to be Snow White
And did the whole pin-up girl look
Red lips, black hair, white skin.
then I joined a website
and learnt how to cook
and how to wield a rolling pin.
Then I sat and waited for a charming prince
who never came.
So I got up and made an apple pie
and lo seven guys turned up in a pinch
but most of them were really lame
and short and they didn't like the pie. I cried.
I threw the pie into the trash
where the rats choked on the apples
and waited for their own true love's kiss.
(But then I needn't have worried about making a hash
of things because later on the steps of an abandoned chapel,
The Anti-Pest Society gave me an award for getting rid of all the rats
and that's how I got work as an exterminator -which I am justifiably proud of and good at-
So hasta la vista baby, I'll be back.)
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
They are not children long less we, mistaken,
view their charms as something taken,
something ‘stolen’ from their innocence
which is nothing real and only hints
at our guilt and crying shame
which looks eager for others to blame
for the simple march of time and tide
at whose foot we all will abide.
Look to the corpse-like living
who, to youth, are always giving
the presumption of an end justifiably reached.
When youth is nothing but a far, thin beach
landed upon; afoot or on the roll.
Landing half dead or hale and whole.
Beware the Siren song of youth;
the false virginity, the baby’s tooth
for it is not the child, we have been,
that is the gift of original sin.
‘Cute’ is not a place to stay.
Beautiful is best beheld from far away.
We are the road that leads us on.
We are the sunset that precedes the dawn.
We are not born to stay the child
Youth is for the forever beguiled.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
not so
without sound
there is a heartbeat
a gentle sniff
a scream
a hauntingly beautiful
song
a voice carrying
a burden
a body bent
standing strong
an unhappy heart
that bleeds
upon paradise
rearranging
circumstance
to justifiably
and painfully
try to arguably
lay down beside
What Is Wrong
We tend to lick our wounds
in the quiet of the night
when we think others
are sleeping
We stay awake
to protect them
from our own fright
We sit beneath one sided glass
so we can't see our own
reflection
and pretend we care so deep
as we are buried
beneath our defection
In the quiet
without the light
shining on our
imperfection
Gold and Silver
have no worth
as dull as Copper
and Nickel
ten times less
Precious
infinitely more
worth
than the babble of
the day to day
that's infects my ears
In the quiet
of the night
your precious voice
rises
The only song
my heart hears
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 5:20 AM UTC
The crowd has waited since 5 am
there’s been much talk
about the discounts at 8.30
So there’s the long queue and this man
comes right up to the front
and the outraged crowd punch him, push him
and kick him back in line
but the impertinent man gets up
and walks again to the front of the queue
and the justifiably angry crowd
punch him, push him
and kick him back in line
but the determined man gets up
like Rocky
and walks again to the front of the queue
and again the no-nonsense crowd
punch him, push him
and kick him back in line
but the obstinate man gets up yet again
and he mumbles, like Rocky:
“If these idiots hit me again, I’ll not open the store for 'em!”
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 6:24 AM UTC
~for those who can’t sleep, and know why~
***you say “how much is too far?” and I think yes, more scars,
a man surveys a lifetime of errors and cowardice,
my soles, scarred from nite-walking new york city sidewalks,
days of haven’t slept in years, weakness is my prejudice,
tally sums-ups as no forgiveness, the pavement paying is a
continuum of paying on, there is no atonement for wasted life,
the concrete cracks wedded to my body, stepped on each one***
**marvel at the disastrous disappointment that I’ve engineered,
how creative in disguising a life of accumulated self bruising,
applaud my season’s greeting card, 2020, me meeting me,
in a laptop I am contained, global boundaries thus defined,
crumpled coffee cups, emptied wine glass, zoom loops of repetition,
still I wonder why, every day, how, so many missteps, wondering
not at the lackluster will that carried me; every minute sorrowful**
*so much hidden begs for revelation, murdered souls, theft, jealousy,
but the punishment is brutal; a conscientious conscience continually
punishes my blackened hours and there is no retrieval, retrial,
just a grounded plot with neither headstone and grass,
for I’m marked by no marker, and the wounds inflicted are my
afflicted leavings, my bones+soul confined, and the hallelujah
word excised from my vocabulary, forbidden me, justifiably so*
————————————-
Mr. Tambourine Man
Song by Bob Dylan
“Though I know that evening's empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand, but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me,
I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming...
And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow”
Dec 5, 2020
Dec 5, 2020 at 4:33 AM UTC
I want his forehead to be veined-
to conform physically with the
way I think a bad person
is contorted. But it isn’t.
I have no feature to latch onto,
no blood-filled flaw from which
to justifiably leech my hatred.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
How come we fight for our country and put our lives on the line, for a corrupt political system and officials that lie.
We fight overseas for our freedom, and we do so with honor. Yet how can we be free, when our government is secretly keeping all of its citizens monitored. Its no secret Americas broke, so its a joke that we still spend, billions of dollars a year on our nations defense.
I guess when your obsession is power, the best direction is war. When were face to face with recession, how can we justifiably spend more.
We stand by our leaders. We expect their actions to honor there name. Only to be left with corporate corruption, financed for political gain. Now a days the word justice, fails to hold its function. When big business contributions, purchase the people that govern us.
So how do you tell the people, that our debit is so vast. That our currency is becoming worthless, without panicking the mass.
By consistently creating conflicts, that create a flow of cash.
This is how it all works, with the current system in play. The poor go to a war, that the the middle class pays, the people in power see a profit, and the soldiers feel the pain.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
Stanley crawled along the shore
Holding the ocean in his hand
Bearing the words "Nevermore"
He was quite justifiably mad.
He had without, a coin to his name.
Nor the age of someone wiser.
Stanely, without thinking met a dame.
Who shared his love of a ****** writer.
I refrain from telling you so thusly.
But I authored this text thinking of me.
In my room, on a bed.
Too bad no one likes reading about poor people.
Stanelys dame had given him hope.
And tore it slowly without a sound.
Crushing, to his very soul.
He refused to swim, preferring to drown.
But I dare not say where stanely ends.
Or where his story dared to lead.
He did not drown within those depths.
How poetic that must have been.
Stanely looked upon the beach.
Feeling four winds at his heels.
His writers note had overreached.
And stanely cried, forgetting that girl.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 9:10 PM UTC
preemptive militance of white America
paranoid and armed to the gold teeth
bombing with nuclear bombs as revenge
bombing around the world
just in case
what if black America was this preemptive
this militantly hyper vigilant
after facing the whiteness of extermination
for such a long time
perhaps black America
might want the government
to use some of the hard earned
tax money
military expertise
impunity
to eradicate
racist white terrorists in America
at all levels of society
like what happened to MOVE
to John Africa
the babies the children
in Philadelphia may 13 1985
the fed bombs from the state helicopter
whiteness on a paranoid
preemptive genocidal mission of impunity
on camera
the paranoia black America should have
justifiably so
not to blame
America should surrender to the preemptive desire
of black America to not be enslaved or killed
upholding the basic freedom
In America
save your tax money
for domestic peace
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 11:08 PM UTC
We suffer at our sense of loss,
we are frightened by the rage,
we are guilty in the face of rejection,
we are hurt by choice of isolation
and we are confused by the message.
We give in
We give up
We start to slip, but the noose holds us back
We are wrong, yet justifiably right
We’re scared no one cared
Did they really ever care?
Whats the point? who am I? why am I? what am i?
So scared to lose yet too shy to succeed
The fear of fear always left me scared
Nothing more nothing less,
The significance of others
makes me feel significantly less significant
than the insignificant others
fight wars for freedom
enslaved in our minds from the battles
the torture, the evil
the only death known is violent, yet suicide seems so peaceful.
Apr 15, 2012
Apr 15, 2012 at 2:24 AM UTC
(alternately titled random axe of violence)
I calculated an average
of ~10.16.... deaths per year
of mass school shootings since Columbine,
a morbid benchmark where,
iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit,
now students require armed guards to learn - veer
really within purportedly "safe places",
which statistics tracks a unilinear
trend, and justifiably causing
absolute zero reassurance
countering alarmist state of mind dust tear
ability to accept rationale
dismissing greater probability
prevails lightening will strike loved ones,
nonetheless share
ring understandable expressing
rightful salient concerns with school board
quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare
lee remain mum at every opportunity,
how second amendment does not square
with democratic e pluribus unum firmament,
lieutenant management,
quintessential reverent tenets
pointing trigger finger of accountability
at lax gun purchasing rare
lee does emotional uproar demanding
immediate controls, limitations, restrictions,
et cetera on firearms scare
the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association,
whence spokesperson doth prepare
convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear
ring lee outgun legitimate
parental concerns, now near
daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed
inducing similar reactions as
sports home team defeated, sans mere
slightly raised eyebrows while headline news
when another tragedy gets tacked
unto the 122 students killed since Columbine
took innocent lives 19 plus years ago
which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare
lee induce ripple despite an increasing number
of spent bullets fallout inflicting
more than 208,000 vulnerable
impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
Relationships.
They seem to be the basis of all human activity.
If you're not actively looking for a partner in life then you're bettering yourself so that you will be more attractive to those potential partners.
Some of us are so desperate for companionship that we refuse to leave our partners, even if they are doing more harm than good. Domestic violence is becoming more and more relevant, adultery is the most common cause of relationship failure, and soon the generation that speaks of " 60 years of marriage" will have died off.
But what happens when there's no substantial reason to leave a relationship? You're not being abused, he buys you flowers, he would not dare to ever cheat on you, and he loves you with all of his heart. He would do anything for the relationship to work. He wants to get married some day, have babies, and live happily ever after. All the while you're wondering if an opportunity to get out with good cause will ever present itself. You find yourself praying that he'll ***** up bad enough so that you can justifiably cut the cord on the whole thing. You are unhappy, but you're not sure whether it's because you're bored or you've actually fallen completely out of love. You've stopped seeing this person as part of your future and just as an annoying part of the present. You're afraid that you will never have the courage to get out of the relationship, and the longer you wait, the more it is going to hurt when it happens. But if you don't do it you're going to be stuck with a person that makes you miserable for the rest of your life. If you wait too long, then you will have wasted the years of your youth on someone that you don't even love. You know that it's the right decision but there's a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you that you'll never meet someone who treats you as well as they do, that you'll regret your decision and most of all, you are scared to be alone....
And then there's the ignorant talk of "nice guys finish last" and you do not want to be a part of that stereotype, but that's exactly what it's going to look like. The honest truth is not that you've drifted away because he's a nice guy. You've drifted away because he's not the guy for you. You still want a guy that will buy you flowers and love you with all his heart. You don't want to be with a **** But you don't want him to be jealous, space- invading, time-sucking, over-reacting, clingy, immature, or shallow either.
But you've been hurt so many times, and right now, you're safe.
You don't have to worry about being alone, cheated on, or abused and it's a wonderful thing to have.
But is it worth it?
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
I've run away before.
Not for an overly good reason.
But because I didn't know what else to do.
I had no ID, no licence, no accessories.
Nothing that could possibly describe who I am or what I've done.
So I ran.
I went to the end of the block and turned right...
And the right again.
And again.
I ran around a block, but still ran in a circle.
Back to where I started.
My mouth dry, legs weak, heavily breathing and sweating out the 15th fever this week, and it's scary to not have a justifiably good reason to be here or to run off.
I want to scream until singing is a lost memory but I would not do that here. Not when I still have enough energy to cry.
And I do cry.
More than I should.
More than anyone should ever have to.
Running in the middle of the street not even close to being scared of the cars speeding down the pavement.
And yet, there are no cars on the road.
Open.
Empty.
Nothing.
I do want to disappear sometimes.
But I wouldn't do that now.
My suffering is already a public hanging nobody watches.
I ran away.
And I would run out of the city and never return.
The only problem is...
The only place I was ever taught to run to...
Was home.
And even that doesn't seem to exist anymore.
So where can I go?
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
What news have you brought me of the beloved?
The anxiety of my heart is so very great in there.
I no longer at all can keep my feelings covered
and the stirrings of my heart are about to flare.
The masked expression on your face seems uncertain
but the light from your eyes shines with a story to tell.
Let’s sit down together and draw around us a curtain
so that the flames of longing we will be able to quell.
If I seem to be somewhat impatient it’s justifiably so
the anguish in my heart is almost too strong to bear,
as news of the beloved is all that I really care to know
don’t hesitate any more now and those moments spare.
Although you look a little tired from the long distance traveled
there’ll be some unfinished business between yourself and me;
unless I hear a few words all my trepidation won’t be unraveled
and the pain in my heart will become unbearable for you to see.
You now must know how I feel and all the reasons behind
so please tell me everything to help ease my heart and mind.
Start at the very beginning and continue right up to the end
I’ll be listening with expectation and to your words attend.
________________________________________________
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC
It isn’t Paris but it is.
As the light washes
over late afternoon
walls full of us and
other people’s lives.
As the music charms
our old bones we can
add context to our list
of rolodex happenings.
As the shadows hint at
mystery beneath every
shining moment we can
justifiably glint and smile.
It isn’t Paris…but it is.
Tony Noon
Jun 30, 2025
Jun 30, 2025 at 5:22 AM UTC
Adorably gagworthy
Because nothing is worse than
Cutesy talking over each other to
Depict your date of face battles
Extended past curfew and
Frightened of losing the other
Granted neither is going anywhere
Heaven made match through twists of fate
Integrating both into my
Justifiably insane life
Keeping me on my tip toes
Leaping forward to catch them both before they
Meet the hellhole of
Never ending fear that
Openly acts as a factor of the
Purity and
Quite
Raucous realness of their
Story book love tale
Tracing the pathways paved by
Unanimously loved romantic comedies
Verifying the necessity of this
Wacky wubulous
Xenial relationship that has been
Years in the making and will stand longer than
Zion
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC
What if children are actually the wisest beings on the planet?
And the state in which we call "the development period" before they learn to talk is when they are trying their best to convey all of the secrets of life and death to you?
All children can justifiably do this because their "innocence" as we perceive it is actually the profound wisdom to come of living an entire lifetime that still exists within them. Hence, they have left the troubles of this world behind and still remember passing images and details of what happens after this.
When they figure out they can't actually speak to you for some reason, they then begin to act in the most candid manner to demonstrate their knowledge. And because perhaps, you too have experienced another life or even multiple lives before the one that you're living, you catch on to bits and pieces of what they are demonstrating and appreciate that.
Then, since these little ethereal beings are learning to be human again and you're the first people they meet and spend the most time with, they want to identify with you.
So the beginnings of what we call "personality" are really just the congenial memories to the secrets of the universe shared between parents and children. And eventually, the child grows up and.forgets all their secrets, only to remember them as they live life once again. There's gotta be something to that adage where people refer to the elderly reverting back to their childlike selves, after all!
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
Music is beautiful.
Music unites so many people, it can also define them.
Music is another universal language.
Music is perfect.
Music has so many different categories. One for everyone.
Music as a whole cannot be justifiably hated.
Music is the reason why some people are still with us.
Music is infinite.
Music is food for the soul.
Music is everything, and yet it is so little.
Music is just notes arranged in an order.
But the order is beautiful.
And, just like a circle (of fifths), we're back to the beginning; music is beautiful.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 2:05 PM UTC
They are not children long less we, mistaken,
view their charms as something taken,
something ‘stolen’ from their innocence
which is nothing real and only hints
at our guilt and crying shame
which looks eager for others to blame
for the simple march of time and tide
at whose foot we all will abide.
Look to the corpse-like living
who, to youth, are always giving
the presumption of an end justifiably reached.
When youth is nothing but a far, thin beach
landed upon; afoot or on the roll.
Landing half dead or hale and whole.
Beware the Siren song of youth;
the false virginity, the baby’s tooth
for it is not the child, we have been,
that is the gift of original sin.
‘Cute’ is not a place to stay.
Beautiful is best beheld from far away.
We are the road that leads us on.
We are the sunset that precedes the dawn.
We are not born to stay the child
Youth is for the forever beguiled.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
Sometimes if we carefully observe what's going on in our life
we may notice a principle or system operating that is rife;
punishment and reward is that which seems to be going on
even though certain elements of it may be justifiably wrong.
It resembles the broader principle known as the Law of Karma
wherein or by which one can reap what they sow like a farmer.
The implications of this are taken advantage of by those who
wish to impose their own idea of justice or vengeance onto
anyone that goes against or crosses a certain line of their sphere
where they hold influence and consider it to be some place dear.
In many situations though the main reason is that out of jealousy
which prompts one with a warped mind to do an act of treachery.
_______________________
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 10:08 AM UTC